eighted,
Her price beyond all rubies rated,
A hundred-virtued amulet
To such as her in marriage get.

Gold pillar to a silver socket;
The weakling's tower of strength, firm-locked,
The very golden crown of life;
Grace upon grace--a virtuous wife.

"MARCHOG JESU!"

(Hymn sung at the Investiture of the Prince of Wales, the Welsh words by
Pantycelyn, the famous eighteenth-century hymn-writer)

Lord, ride on in triumph glorious,
Gird Thy sword upon Thy Thigh!
Earth shall own Thy Might Victorious,
Death and Hell confounded lie.
Yea! before Thine Eye all-seeing,
All Thy foes shall fly aghast;
Nature's self, through all her being,
Tremble at Thy Trampling Past.

Pierce, for Thou alone art able,
Pierce our dungeon with Thy day;
Shatter all the gates of Babel,
Rend her iron bars away!
Till, as billows thunder shoreward,
All the Ransomed Ones ascend,
Into freedom surging forward
Without number, without end.

Who are these whose praises pealing
From beyond the Morning Star
Earthward solemnly are stealing
Down the distance faint and far?
These are they, the Ever Living,
All in glistening garments gone,
Palm in hand, with proud Thanksgiving
Up before the Great White Throne.

THE DESTRUCTION OF JERUSALEM

(After Eben Fardd, 1802-1863, one of the leading Welsh poets of the
nineteenth century)

RACHEL MOURNING

Rachel, ah me! most wretchedly
Mourns, meekest, worthiest woman,
Her husband dear hurled to his bier
By Roman fiends inhuman.
Tremulously now murmurs she:
"Naught's here but naked horror;
Black despond and blind despair,
Mad turmoil, murderous terror!
Free he rose, his hero blows
Gave Rome black cause to rue him;
Ten to one, then they run
Their poisonous poignards through him.
Thus took flight thy tortured sprite,
Dear heart, from my fond seeing!
Now stars on high in stark dawn die,
We too must far be fleeing.
Children dear, I thrill with fear
To hear your hungry crying!
Away, away! one more such day--
And we're too weak for flying."

THE BURNING TEMPLE

The savage foes of this lost land of ours
Conspire to fire Antonius' shapely towers.
Ere long the Temple proud, surpassing all
Art's fairest gems, shall unto earth be bowed!
Lo! through the lurid gloom the lightning's lash!
And hark the unnatural thunder crash an